


Observations

by fragilelittleteacup



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7958035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilelittleteacup/pseuds/fragilelittleteacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal meet a different way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Observations

No one announced Will Graham’s entrance, and he certainly didn’t come with ceremony.

Hannibal’s eyes fixed on the man as he entered, placed his briefcase down on the table and began to root around in the bag. He wasn’t especially tall, nor was he shorter than normal. He hadn’t dressed for the occasion, particularly; his light green dress shirt was crumpled as if he’d hurriedly ironed it. Still, Hannibal wasn’t affronted by the unseemly sight. It was almost endearing and, besides- the professor’s face was _far_ more interesting.

He was beautiful. In an unconventional way, for a man, though his jaw was strong, and dusted with enough stubble that it was apparent he hadn’t shaved for a few days. His eyes and his features were feminine. His hair was curly, haphazard, giving him the appearance of youth- despite this, his gaze was steely and weary, as if he were waiting for one of his waiting college students to jump from their seats and shoot him. Hannibal tilted his head, fascinated. There was a certain vulnerability about him. Hannibal’s eyes roamed the man’s frame, disguised by a simple smoky-grey dress jacket that, despite being slightly too big for him, did not disguise his lithe limbs. He was a fit man.

Hannibal’s gaze moved up and down as Will Graham turned from his briefcase and towards the audience of students.

“Can someone get the lights?” His voice was educated American; he was in a position of power, but he accepted it grudgingly. He wasn’t comfortable with it. As a complying student jumped to do as he asked- with no small amount of enthusiasm, Hannibal noted with a smile- Will thanked them quietly.

“Now.” The lights switched off. “You are all students learned in psychotherapy. You know the studies.” He crossed the room to stand behind the podium, walking slowly, hands hovering in a fidgeting grasp. “The question I have for you today is… are psychopaths crazy?”

A few hands went up in the audience. Hannibal was still, a smile beginning to widen his lips.

Will Graham seemed inclined to ignore the hands raised in the audience. He clicked the button of a small remote, and a large picture was projected onto the wall; a man, balding, smiling widely. Hannibal knew the name before the professor spoke it.

“Hervey M. Cleckley.” He spoke the name slowly, dwelling on it. “He wrote a book titled _The Mask of Sanity.”_ There was a smile in his voice now, a mocking amusement. “In this scientific work of fiction, Cleckley claimed that psychopaths were people suffering from an as-yet unidentified mental disorder. He believed that a neuropsychiatric defect caused them not to be able to genuinely experience emotion…” His voice trailed off, and the wide room was silent for a moment. “Who among you can tell me why this is untrue?”

A few hands were raised. Most were lowered.

“None of you can. Because this is a theory, as most studies of psychopaths end up being.” He tapped the podium in thought. “The fact is that psychopaths are not crazy. They do not suffer from abnormalities of normal thought processes as people who are experiencing ‘psychosis’ do. Do not confuse psychopaths and psychotics. The two are completely different.”

Pens and pencils flew across students’ notepads, but Hannibal was still; he smiled at the professor, as if they were the only two in the room.

“A more favorable way of referring to these… _people…_ is as sociopaths. This, however, is evidently not accurate for all psychopaths, or I myself would be within this range.”

The lecture hall gave a low, unanimous laugh. Will Graham seemed shocked by the noise; he glanced up, gave a small laugh of his own, and continued. Hannibal’s smile widened as he realized that the professor hadn’t been intending to joke.

“Sociopathy is favored with regards to psychopaths, because most of them seem to suffer an extreme sort of social dysfunction as opposed to a derangement of mind.” He gestured at his own head vaguely. “An alternative to this theory is that, while many psychopaths may suffer from additional personality disorders, it is their…” He paused, smiled as if he were pained, and then continued with a grin. “… _unique_ narcissism that allows them to know and take pride in the fact that they are different from the majority of the population. They cause pain because it gives them pleasure. However, any person can be driven to murder.” He gestured widely, sweeping the entire room- halfway, he paused. His eyes were drawn to Hannibal. He stopped for a moment.

Hannibal smiled.

Will Graham started, and then lowered his arm. He cleared his throat.

“As I was saying, murder is never far from a _normal_ \- and I use that term grudgingly- person’s mind. Anyone can be driven to it. Those that cannot are exceptional.” He paused, glanced again at Hannibal, and then turned his head away. “Psychopaths are, generally, sadists. But many people are sadists. Some let it out in the bedroom.” He shrugged. The audience laughed. “But psychopaths are, and this-” He held up a hand, pointing upwards to emphasize his words. “-this is the main point; psychopaths are _narcissistic._ They do not have any conniptions whatsoever about snuffing out a life lower than theirs. And, if they gain enjoyment from it, then it must be an elevated act. Because they are above the rest of us.”

 _Us._ The word seemed to fall oddly from the man’s mouth; he hesitated, making a face as if the syllable tasted revolting.

“A theory is that a psychopath’s ability towards empathy is impaired, hence their willingness to commit certain acts. But this cannot always be true. Many psychopaths live life normally, and demonstrate emotion. Honest…” He softly emphasized the word, and Hannibal felt his curiosity grow; the professor seemed to baldy want the students to understand this. “…honest, and _real_ emotion. Psychopaths are people. They have the ability, however, to wall off all emotion when they are in the act of victimizing someone.” He gestured. “So, what stops any person from being a psychopath? Some would believe there was a psychopath around every corner.”

Hannibal laughed quietly. A few students glanced at him.

 “But, _true_ psychopathy is a rare thing. It does, however, fit into a few categories, if you accept this theory- you may-” He cleared his throat and gestured vaguely. “-want to have your notebooks ready.”

There was a shuffling of paper and of fabric. Hannibal’s hands were still folded in his lap.

The teacher’s eyes flickered to him again; the only one in the audience not moving. Will cleared his throat, and looked away.

“The narcissists. The unbridled aggressives. The channelled aggressives. The sadists.”

Pens scrawled. Students repeated his words in whispers as they wrote.

“But the key thing is that psychopaths feel a disdain for their own species, and feel an entitlement to prey upon mankind- whether that be women, men, children or any other specific demographic. Everyone has their preferences.”

The students laughed. But mostly they just sounded wary.

Will Graham glanced at his watch. “We’ve got a short lecture today, sorry. Next lecture session, we will be discussing Dr Robert Hare’s work, and his opinions regarding sociopathy with regards to psychopaths. Thankyou.”

The students startled themselves into an applause; he, who had started to turn towards the desk to retrieve his briefcase, flinched as if a mosquito were buzzing around his head.

The lights came on.

Hannibal smiled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
